


Writing Prompts

by KrymynalKrimzon



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, practice, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:15:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrymynalKrimzon/pseuds/KrymynalKrimzon
Summary: All my writing prompts that I do will be posted here in separate chapters. Many of them have no relations with others. If they do, I will make it clear within the chapters to avoid confusion.
Kudos: 1





	1. Writing Prompt- 1

**Author's Note:**

> A simple writing prompt I wrote forever ago and decided to update, mostly to fix some typos I never caught. I had fun writing this, even with the darker tones. I know most of my prompts won't be this hopeless, I rather write about happier things- but the change is nice.
> 
> Also posted on these Websites:  
> https://www.deviantart.com/krymynalkrimzon/art/Writing-Prompt-1-759753089  
> https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3338238/1/OC-Interview  
> https://www.wattpad.com/story/191460122-writing-prompts
> 
> Word Count: 536
> 
> -Zena

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A simple writing prompt I wrote forever ago and decided to update, mostly to fix some typos I never caught. I had fun writing this, even with the darker tones. I know most of my prompts won't be this hopeless, I rather write about happier things- but the change is nice.

“Wait, you knew her? Personally?”  
“I knew all of them,” he murmured. “At least, I thought I did. Once. A long time ago.”  
“What were they like?”  
Some crumpled copy of a smile crossed his face. “They were going to change the world.”  
And around them, the world burned. 

~~~

Cities on fire were a common sight, along with the smoke and ash that forever filled the air, making it hard to breathe. Ash was more common the pollen, dumpster fires more common than trees. The streets were filled with so many dead bodies, all looted only moments after the poor soul's death. Survival of the fittest was cruel, but it was survival that mattered, not manners. so regard for the dead was at an all-time low, some survivors even reverting to cannibalism just to get a meal. There was no plants, no crops to crow. It stopped raining when the world went to hell, the rivers were all dried up or just plain toxic.

It was never supposed to end up like this. They meant to do so much, to make the world beautiful and safe for all. But anyone could be corrupted by power, even the kindest hearts. 

Food and supplies were depleting before their eyes and no one knew how to fix it. They would have to leave their base- an old which was an awful smelling gas station with no gas. The station was placed near the edge of a city, or what was left of it. At one point it had been beautiful with its skyscrapers and fancy cars, but now the most beautiful thing that could be in it was food cans or a water bottle. The small group of survivors only got smaller by the day. Their base was becoming their grave ever since their doctor was murdered. They could make their lives easy- just submit to their new leaders- but most rather be dead. And, so they did. Groups of survivors were getting harder to find. they were all dying out, desperate to keep their freedom.

The glittering city over the horizon was so daunting. It's large stone walls, beautifully designed architecture that reminded them of Victorian stories. Behind the gates laid 'paradise'. Yes, it certainly looked like one, but it was all a sick lie. Anyone who entered the city was never allowed to leave. Rumors floated about, and very few things were fact about the city. But one thing everyone knew it wasn't paradise, it was a prison.

George brought the half empty water bottle to his lips, only taking a small sip just wishing to wet his dried and cracked lips. “We had such grand plans. I never thought it would end like this.” He spoke to his fellow survivor. 

“We? You were… Almost one of them?” His fellow survivor spoke carefully. George could see him move uncomfortably on the old metal bench- and he had a feeling it wasn't because the other's ass was getting sore.

“Oh yes. I’m the reason all this happened… My friends trusted me. I trusted them too. But what we found was too much… I should have killed them all.” He darkly admitted. He turned his gaze away from his fellow survivor. "I found it, all because I wished for something so greedy." He was old now, and honestly, with the doctor, dead George was figuring he didn't have long to live. He had many regrets, so many things he wished to fix. But his time was ending now.


	2. Writing Prompt- 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to keep this prompt nice and short, just some simple practice. I enjoyed the idea of a murder cruise ship, along with our main character actually not being a hero. I think too often the main character survivals their challenges and lives on to become a hero for the greater good, to stand up to those who can't stand up for themselves. So why not focus on a cowardly character, one that is doomed from the very start?

Someone is murdered on the cruise ship you are on. Passengers are told to lock themselves in their cabins and await instructions. The captain speaks from the ship’s PA system. “The first contestant has fallen, only 5,132 remain. Goodluck.” With that, the doors all clicked and swing open.

~~~

Jackson stared at the now opened door, a lump forming in his throat. He could hear the distant screams of other passengers, soon becoming a loud endless screeching sound. It was crazy- he saw people running in the passageways- trying to find friends or get to the lifeboats to escape. Children were screaming and clinging to their parents or siblings, snot and tears quickly streaming down their faces in the middle of the panic. He didn’t know why- they could just ignore the captain after all! Maybe he was the only one with a brain. If they all refused to fight each other and kill then surely they would all be safe. The ship will have to dock sooner or later- or at least get close enough to shore and they can all swim for it.

Jackson moved forward, standing in the forcefully opened doorway, watching the crowd push and rush. He briefly wondered why they were all running until he looked up the hallway and saw what was causing such fear. There was a big lug of a man walking slowly, seeming to relish the panic his presence caused. He seemed to be carrying a machete, at least Jackson assumed that was what it was. He was swinging it, slashing people’s backs and stabbing them repeatedly- their blood spilling on the floor, making large red puddles as their screams filled the air- quickly becoming gurgled and muffled as they choked on their own blood and died a painful death.

Jackson felt his blood run cold as he watched as person after the person fell to the ground, dead or dying. No one was spared, not even the babies as he or she were ripped out of his or her dead parent's arms and simply dropped to the floor where the man slammed his heavy boots onto his or her skulls. It was a mass murder… The man was glancing into the private cabins as he walked by, assuring he left no one in his wake. From the suit he wore, he seemed to be an employee of the cruise line.

Jackson turned and ran with the crowd, pushing and shoving as he tried to run away. his room wasn't safe if that man was checking them, he had to get to the lifeboats and escape. All worry about the hurt people did not exist. He had to run and survive! He shoved people down, rather they die than him. At least their soon to be lifeless bodies will grant him some extra time to escape. But all he could see ahead of him was an endless river of people. There was no way he could escape this way. So, he ducked into someone else's cabin. He couldn't shut the door so he just ran into the bathroom where the door was locked like every other cabin. He slammed against the door, using his shoulder. After several full-on assaults, the lock broke and the door swung open, Jackson tumbling in and falling to the tiled floor with a loud crash. His shoulder was numb but it was better than being caught. Jackson crawled back to the door, his legs trembling with fear. he shut the bathroom door so it looked like it was still locked, well at least as no one noticed the broken lock.

Jackson crawled over to the wall, pressing his back against the nice cool tile, letting his head rest back against it as his eyes shut. He could hear the nearly endless screams of pain and panic, the sound of blood being spilled onto the wooden deck. He shook his head and pulled his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them tightly as he wished to just curl up and disappear. He never prayed before- but he prayed that he would survive. He needed to go home to his overly simple, boring life. It seemed like heaven now- this vacation was such a terrible idea.

Footsteps entered the cabin and he held his breath, his eyes snapping open. The footsteps were lighter, more delicate. He could hear things moving- giggling. It sounded like a woman. He carefully stood up, leaning heavily against the wall as he slowly cracked opened the bathroom door. Jackson peered out of the bathroom and spotted a beautiful woman who was searching and taking things of monetary value, slipping them into her purse. Her long lightly permed black hair framed her face an trailed down her back to her shoulder blades. She wore expensive designer clothes from the classic jeans with holes in them to a gemmed belt, even a swooping neckline in her white shirt. She looked like the ideal image of a rich girl. Her shimmering blue eyes landed on Jackson moments later and she smiled placing a finger on her ruby colored lips.

“Shh… Shall we escape together?” She asked lightly. Taken back Jackson nodded and stood, the question of why she was looting alluding him, but she seemed to answer it anyways, picking his curiosity even more. "We'll need money and things of value to escape, no? Pay some people to look the other way," she explained ever so effortlessly. 

The beauty then walked over to him, taking him by the hand as if it was the most natural thing to do. “Let’s run!” She said in a hushed whisper, her blue eyes glimmering with excitement. She wasn't scared, she seemed to be enjoying this. Jackson's survival was important, so if he could use this rich woman to escape, then why not?

If only he knew she had a gun in her bag. If only he knew this was her 7th cruise… This year. If only he knew she adored the color of red, and her dear husband was currently painting the hallways to her liking. Everything on this ship was to her design and liking. No one ever escaped.


	3. Writing Prompt- 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt is very strange, so I just tried to stick with it. I don't have much to say about it.

Starrie is a plumber from Denmark who falls in love with her gardener. The two are separated when the gardener falls into the ocean and loses her memory. Starrie remembers that she actually killed her gardened ten years previous.

~~~

Starrie was beautiful with her flowing brown hair and dazzling blue eyes, though along with her looks she was also smart due to her rich upbringing. She was sent to private schools and got all the joys of that life, private lessons, tutors and all the activities she could have. Her overbearing parents were terrified of ending up with a spoiled brat, so they drilled the female to be kind and humble, to keep her head low and always be thankful for anything she received. Never to take pride in her rich upbringing, and instead, they shamed their daughter often when they felt she was getting too confident. But that was years ago now, and how Starrie was fully grown. She lived in a pleasantly modest house near the seaside. 

But Starrie, of course, had to have pride in something, and that was her beautiful garden. Every plant she picked, everything she controlled. In her garden, she was god where she picked who lived and who died. The large trees she had planted ever so carefully have grown, their branches casting shade over the fountain that was ever so carefully placed in the center. Garden beds filled with life and sprawling flowers, nearly overflowing but just not quite. She spent years on this garden- her lovely baby which she nurtured and watched it grow until something ever so breathtaking. 

When she wasn't in her garden she worked a mundane humbling job to still appease her overbearing parents. It was nice to have some sort of schedule in her life, but it was demanding more and more of her time due to her coworkers constantly quitting. So with her job demanded more of her time she had to hire a gardener just to assure her plants would survive. Some nights she was just too exhausted to go out and water them. Starrie had spent weeks pouring over reviews online and asking around town. she simply had to find the perfect Gardner and cost meant nothing to her. She would have the very best.

The Gardner must have an excellent record with few to no bad reviews. They had to be female- she wouldn't have a man roughing up her garden. They also had to be young and fit as to actually handle the work her large garden demanded. Starrie was being terribly demanding, turning people down at a single flaw. After weeks of searching, she found such a gardener- it was like an angel was sent from heaven to fulfill her wish. With gentle hands the gardener worked, tending to Starrie’s pride and joy as if she knew just what to do for every single plant to give them the best chance to bloom and show their bright colors.

Starrie was always in awe when she watched her gardener. It was like time melted away when she watched. Days to weeks to months to years, nothing ever seemed to change. Starrie would gaze out into her garden, always watching her gardener in her off time. Yes, her gardener was the most beautiful flower she owned… With those gentle hands and care, she gave the flowers Starrie had fallen into a blissful 'love'.

“Gardener,” Starrie called from her bedroom window. “Don’t forget the Lilly's,” she said ever so sweetly. The worker nodded politely and continued to work. Starrie sipped her fine red wine and watched. Starrie was enjoying her day off, resting back in her comfortable rocking chair, a book in her lap. Her window was wide open to let the air in. The white curtains gently fluttered with the breeze which brought in the sweet smell o the flowers. It was like any other perfect day until her gardener moved close to the cliffside where the lilies were. Starrie swore she had seen this before. She left her window and her comfortable chair, the book carefully dropping onto the floor and losing the page she had been on. The young beauty walked to the well-tended garden with her eyes only on the most beautiful flower she owned. The gardener only kept her own eyes down, focused as she pulled up the stubborn weeds from the soil before placing them into the dark plastic bag where they will meet their slow death. 

Starrie stood and stared with a frown pressed to her lips ruby colored lips. The gardener’s shift was almost over- and Starrie would be left here all alone like she was every night. Her gardener should never leave. She belongs among the trees and flowers, beautiful as Starrie’s blood red roses.

Starrie placed a foot to her precious flower and pushed her off the cliffside, watching her handiwork… But the body never touched the water. Instead, the body faded into nothing. As the gardener faded so did the garden.

Empty, ugly flower beds filled with only dirt- the trees bare and rotten until it was hollow inside. A cracked fountain was full of murky water and gave off an awful odor. The gardener had served Starrie faithfully for 10 beautiful years, so when betrayed her spirit stole 10 more from Starrie and her garden. Starie was older, wrinkled and ugly with no garden or gardener.


	4. Writing Prompt- 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this prompt, an old man named Oliver must convince Death to return back to work after being shamed and bullied by every dying person for years. Death quit, and now the world is overpopulated and is in a terrible crisis as everyone suffers, but no one can die.

Humanity has found a way to live forever: Death is actually super insecure and every time he shows up to take a life they bully him for his fashion sense and tell him that nobody likes him. Now Death has lost his confidence and has completely stopped doing his job. The world is getting overpopulated and it’s a serious problem. You have been chosen to give death a pep talk and help him in regaining his confidence so the world can be in balance once more.

~~~

“It will sting, then you won’t feel a thing.”

“I know, you guys keep saying that,” Oliver muttered under his breath to one of the several doctors surrounding him. It was so awkward and no matter how he laid he just couldn’t get comfortable. Oliver was laying in a hospital bed surrounded by a large crowd in the medium-sized room. Several doctors and nurses, even a few very carefully selected new reporters and their cameramen. The doctors allowed Oliver to stay in his normal clothes and not an awful hospital gown for the… process.

There wasn’t much of a process honestly. Oliver was hooked up to a steady IV drip and it would be very simple to kill him. Well, that was the goal. It would put his body in a state of limbo per se, as death hasn’t happened in years actually. Oliver was randomly selected out of many volunteers to perform this important task. After taking weeks of classes, all over communication, body language, and many other mind-numbing tasks, all was set.

Some nurse held his hand as the doctors crowded around his IV and monitors, all mumbling to each other under their face masks. It was only a moment later he felt so tired. Olver’s head dropped back against the uncomfortable hospital pillow. It felt like a veil of sleep was being laid over him, starting with his toes and working his way up.

The constant beeping in the room was slowing as the camera crew moved closer despite the line taped on the floor to mark their limits. Oliver could make out the fuzzy outline of his reflection on the lens. He was old, run down and tired. His hair was white if not all gone, his skin wrinkled with age that surpassed the norm. His sunken blue eyes held a tired and abandoned look like a newborn kitten left on the street to die in the bitter winter. He had monitors stuck all over his body, from his arms to his chest all the way up to his nearly bald head.

“Oliver? Can you hear me… Oliver?” The nurse asked, squeezing his hand. Oliver felt it yet didn’t. He was just so tired now. His tongue felt huge in his mouth, words impossible. It was just best if he closed his eyes and sleep. Yes, that sounded so nice.

As his eyes closed the gentle beeping of the monitor filled his ears, though with ever beep it got softer and softer as if it was being pulled far away from his bedside.

~~~

He was awake, perfectly fine and energetic even. Oliver hopped out of bed, only to notice he felt lighter than air. His creaking bones were silent, the pain in his left ankle nonexistent. It was a beautiful feeling he was simply begging to feel for so many years.

A steady paced beeping filled the room, and it was oddly comforting to hear it. Oliver frowned, his mind taken away the wonderous pain-free body he now had and saw everyone in the room staring at… him, laying on the bed. The monitor showed he had a completely steady heart rate, pulse, and vitals. Though on another screen it also showed there was utterly no brain activity going on.

It was strange watching himself lay there, but he was mentally prepped for it before. He only had an hour before he was sucked right back into his body. Death was nearby, they told him that much. He was forcefully summoned whenever someone passed away. Now, all he had to do was fine the poor thing and give him a proper pep-talk.

A quick survey of the room showed no signs of death, he must have slipped out before Oliver even opened his eyes. Quick and silent, as Oliver was warned before. The elderly man walked out of the overcrowded room, walking through the people in his way. It was a strange sensation, overly warm and suffocating, but they were in his way.

As he walking through the large door he spotted Death. He looked exactly as they all described. Tall with a flowing dark hooded cloak that covered his head. Oddly enough there was something new about him, he was wearing a plague doctor’s mask- Oliver hadn’t been warned about that.  
The entity was just staring at him, or at least Oliver assumed so. The eye holes on the mask were tinted black, he couldn’t see a thing through them.

‘Death, we have been waiting for you.’ Is what Oliver would naturally say, but through his training classes, he learned that saying it such a way put the blame on the person you were talking to, making them feel guilty for keeping you waiting. ‘Death, I’m so glad you’re here,” he carefully spoke, putting a smile on his face. Nothing was more friendly than a smile!

“Glad?” The entity spoke in a hushed voice.

‘Well, of course, we need your help.’ That was also wrong, sounded like that only liked him for the things he does. While that might be true, it wasn’t the approach needed. “You bet I’m glad Death. I’ve been so eager to meet you.”

“I don’t know why you would be eager,” Death spoke as he started to pull away, turning to leave.

“Wait, don’t go!” Oliver quickly yelled and moved forward in front of Death with unusual speed for his old age. He also felt like he was a teen again, able to actually move without his creaking joints hurting. “I really wanted to see you, talk to you. I know you’ve been bullied, they hurt you so bad… Is that why you’re wearing that mask?”

At first, they only insulted his clothes, but he heard right before Death quit altogether the insults had increased to insulting his whole being and personal appearance, which seemed to be the final straw for the worn out entity. Anything to keep their lives, it seemed so selfish now with everyone suffering from the effects of overpopulation now.

“I wear this mask to…”

‘It doesn’t matter.’ That would get the point across, but he needed to speak more gingerly to this heartbroken man. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. Whatever the reason it’s valid, you have no reason to make excuses.” Oliver relaxed as Death stopped, staring back down at Oliver. The old man was able to properly size Death now. This man was certainly at least 6 foot, if not more. “Keep it on if it makes you comfortable, Death. I think it completes your look.”

“It does?” He asked in the same whispery voice. Oliver was beginning to think that was just Death’s natural voice.

“Well yes. That mask belongs to the plague doctors if I’m not mistaken. They traveled miles upon miles to help the dying and sick, save them from their suffering. The mask kept them safe- well as safe as they thought they could be.” Oliver tried not to talk quickly. He didn’t want to rush this conversation, but the time limit was weighing heavy on his mind. “You help people stop their suffering. You’re a doctor in a way.”

“I… I’m no doctor, I kill them.” Death said, his head dropping in defeat suddenly.

“You save them, you help them. You have such an important role in everything and you’ve never been thanked for it. Death, you’re amazing and do so much to help people. Humankind thanks you, and we’re sorry for our ignorance.”

“Human, people don’t want to die. I understand that now. I’m leaving them be.”

“But we want you to come back Death. We need you,” Oliver pleaded. He reached forward, taking one of Death’s hands into his own. Death’s hands were surprisingly soft, the skin smooth and taut. Oliver could image Death looking like a young man under that mask now. “Young man,” he continued without letting Death interrupt him, “You’re important. To me, to everyone in his hospital, to this world. You might not see your importance, but you are so important. Please, return to us.”

“You want to die?” Death spoke, his voice is even softer than before.

“Yes Death, I wish for it. So do others, we need you.”

“I can’t fix this all at once, it will take awhile. There is much to do. I can’t do it.”

“You can! We believe in you!” Oliver said cheerfully, lightly patting Death’s hand to give him comfort. “You’re Death, you can do this.”

“I can’t… Not alone. Oliver, why don’t you join me? We’ll be Death, together.”

Oliver felt his tongue turn to cotton. He stared up to Death like a gaping fish, his mouth hanging open. Be Death with… Death?

“I-I-I’m only human.”

“So was I… Everything starts out as something else. Seed to a flower, rain to an ocean, human to Death. You can join me, help me fix my wrongs. It would be nice to not be so alone.”

How could he leave Death alone now?

“I’ll join you, Death.”

“We’re Death now, Oliver. Call me Maxis,” he said surprisingly cheerfully. He took Oliver’s hand, and much to the use to be mortal’s surprise the wrinkles on his hands were gone. The clothes he was wearing changed to, shifting to ripped jeans and his old and almost forgotten band shirt. He could feel something soft on top of his head, hair! His black curly locks had returned.

Maxis removed his mask slowly. His green eyes were stunning and his sun-kissed skin could make anyone’s heart skip a beat. Oliver stood there in shock, looking between himself and Maxis.

“I don’t understand…”

“I’ll explain everything with time, my new friend,” Maxis spoke comfortingly. He held Oliver's hand, guiding the now young teen back into his hospital room. Everything was going crazy in there. Doctors and nurses were crying tears of joy, the news reports were in awe. The vitals on the monitor showed nothing, no pulse, no heartbeat- he was officially dead.

One of the doctors pulled out from their tearful hug and called the time of death, bringing cheers from all around the room.

Oliver turned to Maxis, seeing his eyes filled with shock as he now stood there slack-jawed.

“I told you, we missed you. We’re so glad you’re back.”


	5. Writing Prompt- 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this prompt Eva is terribly injured and tries to call her friend Sophie to say sorry while she still can after the two had a huge fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of a list of writing prompts this is one I've been really wanting to do! I was tempted to make it of me and some friends- but that just didn't seem a good idea when I actually got down to writing it.

Two friends are not on speaking terms. Person A gets terribly injured and they call their friend out of desperation- Person B does not answer, ignoring the call. Person A slowly loses the will to stay conscious. Later, Person B hears the voice mail.

~~~

The knife in the gut felt like burning fire with every moment, pressing deeper or cutting as the flesh twisted around it with every step. Eva was desperate to escape, to get some distance between her and her captor. It was so dark out, the night consuming everything around her with the moon nowhere in sight in the cloudy sky above.

Vision blurry with the loss of blood she limped to the side of whatever awful alleyway she had found, leaning against the cold damp wall as she gasped for air. Her curly dark hair felt matted and heavy with her own blood, along with her clothes that clung to her freezing skin.

Eva wanted to rip the knife out of her gut to rid herself of the burning pain, but sometime ago she read online that removing the object will cause her to only bleed out faster. Her legs felt wobbly, and she knew she couldn’t run anymore. She lowered herself down to her knees, her hands gripping the brick wall for dear life as the world twisted around her. It was getting harder to keep her eyes open.

As Eva pressed her back against the cold wall she reached into her pocket, her bloodied hand fumbling as she pulled out her phone. She pressed the power button, then winced at the pure white light blasting from the screen. After several attempts with her stained thumb, she turned the brightness to its lowest setting. She still had to squint to see the screen, but now she could at least make out some of the items.

The first thing she should do was call the police, but where was she? Would they get here in time? She just felt so tired. So very… very tired. She had so many regrets, things to say and do.

People to say goodbye to.

Eva with only a second hesitation went to her contacts and hit the call button on the person she wished she could see right now. Her dear friend, how stupid she had been. How careless.

“Sophie… please,” she whispered as the phone rang.

Hopelessness filled her heart with every ring, then, in the end, she only got voicemail. Of course, she was being ignored… it was all her fault.

“Please call me back or leave a message if it’s so important… Unless your Eva. Bye!” The cheerful prerecorded message almost rang, taunting her.

Nothing mattered now.

~~~

Sophie glared at her phone, watching it flash once, twice, then a final third time, bright enough to illuminate her darkroom. It was the middle of the night and she had work tomorrow, but of course now of all times Eva, the scoundrel was calling her. Well, she just won’t listen!

Sophie turned her back to her phone, ignoring its annoying buzz a few moments later when a voice message was recorded. She didn’t have time for this, she needed her sleep so she could actually move forward in her life and progress, unlike Eva who was clearly only focused on partying and having a good time.

It was probably a drunk call anyways, that’s why they were fighting. Oh, she tried to beg Eva not to go to the party all week, saying it was too far away and they didn’t have time for such things, but of course, Eva would never listen. She was probably calling to brag about the amazing time she was having!

Sophie angrily glared at the wall, her fingers clutching her blankets until her knuckles turned white.

What was Eva saying? Was she partying and laughing, or was she so drunk she was calling to find a safe way back home? Driving while drunk was so dangerous…

In the end, Sophie turned around and picked up her phone, squinting as the light from the phone tried to blind her. She tapped her way to the voicebox and played the message.

“Sophie… Sophie please,” Eva’s gasping voice came. “Please pick up… pick up, pick up, pick up!” Eva begged through the phone. She panted heavily, falling silent for a few moments before she sighed in defeat. “Okay… Okay, you’re not picking up. Sophie…. You’re asleep, I understand I just… I wanted to tell you how sorry I am… I was a fool, I should have listened and grown-up- oh god it hurts so bad!” She sobbed.

Sophie covered her mouth, sitting straight up in her bed, gripping her phone tightly in her grasp.

“I’m so sorry Sophie… You were, no, you are my best friend. I wish I could hear your voice just one more time,” Eva whispered before hanging up.

Without hesitation, Sophie called Eva’s number, holding the phone firmly to her ear, a pang of fear filling her with dread with every passing ring.

“Eva, Eva please…”

“Hello, this is Eva! I can’t answer right now so please leave your message after the beep! Love you all!” Eva’s voice chipperly said, if not a bit stiff from the dozens of attempts trying to record the message.

Sophie breathed heavily, her eyes wide and staring off into her dark room, her mind numb with fear. “Eva… Where are you?”


End file.
